


Pantry Payback

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-05
Updated: 2007-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Payback's a bitch, but Viktor isn't really complaining...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pantry Payback

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel/companion piece to [Butterfly Bed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/474718).

Hermione was trying to drive him utterly, certifiably insane.

It was high summer in Bulgaria, lush with greensward and roses in the garden of his parents' cottage by the Danube. The coming weekend was a family celebration, his grandmother's 85th birthday, and the place was teeming with people: the grandmother in question, Viktor's parents, his widowed aunt and bachelor uncle, and his two sisters, one with her husband and both with their plentiful brood.

Fifteen people in a medium-sized cottage in a medium-sized garden did not a lot of privacy make, and walking around the property with a constant hard-on was a bother to say the least. What was worse, Viktor knew all too well that Hermione knew of his predicament. And he knew damned well what she was up to. And worst of all, he couldn't precisely claim that he didn't deserve it.

Two weeks ago, when he'd seduced Hermione in her childhood bedroom right under her parents' noses, and been a bit -- oh, all right, a _lot_ \-- smug about it, she'd sworn she'd make him pay, and he'd promised in turn that he'd take it like a man. In the shadow behind the garden shed, leaning against the cool plank wall, Viktor slid a hand down the front of his shorts and suppressed a groan. Hell, he _was_ taking it like a man. Having a rock hard erection was manly, wasn't it?

Thank God it had been so hot the past couple of days since they'd arrived that no one wondered at him wearing his shirt loose over the shorts. Of course, it also was so hot that no one wondered at Hermione wandering around barefoot in a tiny lightweight sundress that showed her pert little cleavage, and her shapely tanned legs, and occasionally, when she angled herself cleverly for his perusal alone, what she wore _under_ the dress. Which was, in a word, nothing. Viktor closed his eyes, and focused on the remembered, churning shock of that discovery.

He heard a crash of little feet thundering down the path accompanied by squeals of "Uncle Vitya!" and dropped his hand from his groin, swearing softly in resignation. _Po dyavolite_ , wasn't there one spot in this _proklet_ place where you could hide away for a three-minute wank? He'd had hopes for the shower this morning, but had had to break off first when little Vanya pounded on the door yelling that he needed to pee, and then when Natalya had whisked Vanya off, shouting to Viktor that she'd take him _outside_ to pee, Hermione had knocked on the door and sweetly inquired if he was going to take forever in the shower since his grandmother needed to use the loo. It had killed the mood, and that was putting it kindly.

"Uncle Vitya, we found you! It's our turn to hide now!"

He dropped to a crouch and scooped up Vanya and Bogdan as they rounded the corner of the shed, lifting one boy under each arm and carrying them up the path to the shade terrace accompanied by much gleeful laughter. He put them down on the lawn in front of his mother and drew a hand back through his hair. "I don't want to play hide-and-seek anymore," he told them. "I'm tired, I think I'll go and lie down for a bit."

"You look very hot, Vitya," said his mother, with a frown of concern. "Are you sure you're not dehydrated? Hermione prepared a jug of iced tea and put it in the pantry to cool last night, why don't you go and have some of that?"

Hermione uncrossed her smooth, bare legs and smiled up at him, mischievously from under her tumbling fall of curls. She looked for all the world like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Viktor, however, knew from entrancing experience exactly how hot Hermione's mouth could be, and wasn't fooled for a second.

"I'll show him where I set it, _mamka_ ," she said in her charmingly inflected Bulgarian -- just one more thing that made him crazy for her, the way her cool British voice would form the emphatic Slavic sounds -- then smiled even more sweetly at Viktor. "Unless you spotted it when you went to the pantry late last night?"

Viktor blushed all down to his neck at the reminder of his pantry visit after bedtime the night before. The bedroom walls were paper thin and the rooms tiny, and his parents and his grandmother had the two rooms adjoining theirs. It had been a somewhat bittersweet experience last night to see Hermione wriggle out of her skimpy sundress and into a skimpier nightgown while he heard his mother and father bicker about Saturday's party to the left, and his grandmother recite her nightly prayers for her family to the right. Yet when Hermione had shot him a cool smile over her shoulder as she settled in beside him, round bum snug against his aching front, he couldn't help but laugh inside at the ditch he'd dug himself into.

He'd settled for giving her a burning look and a kiss goodnight on the cheek, and excused himself for a visit to the pantry, claiming he was still feeling peckish after supper.

The pantry had turned out to be occupied by uncle Pitr, and goodness knew what he was doing in there that time of night, but hopefully the red wine sausage in his hand was the real reason and not only an excuse, thought Viktor with a grimace, as he followed Hermione into the house, his gaze fixed on the sweet, sassy sway of her bum not far above the edge of the dress. He swallowed hard. He could _feel_ those round, yielding curves in his hands, as he'd lift her up against the pantry wall, take out his cock and drive it hard right into her wet, knickerless cunt. Oh, because he didn't doubt for a minute that she was feeling it too. It was the only thing keeping him from absolute despair over his pathetic situation.

Except, of course, the back pantry wall faced the shade terrace, and there was a ventilation window high up on that wall, through which, as they stepped inside, they could clearly hear his mother and aunt banter with the children on the lawn outside. 

Hermione closed the door. She took her wand where it was lying in wait for her on the top pantry shelf, and cast a wordless locking charm on the door, then a charm of some kind on a section of the floor, before she faced him, arching an eyebrow. "We have ... shall we say three minutes? -- before someone interrupts us. That is, if you're lucky," she murmured in English.

"If _I_ am lucky?" He narrowed his eyes, reaching for her wand but she smirked and put it back on the shelf. "Cast silencing spell," he whispered, in the same language.

"Oh, but what would be the fun in that?" she inquired, perfectly echoing his teasing words to her in her parents' house two weeks before. She walked over to him, cupped a palm over his groin and smiled when he arched his neck back, barely able to suppress his moan. Her other palm gentle on his chest, she walked him backwards against the wall. "But I'm sure you're properly motivated to stay silent."

Viktor stared in a mute haze of lust and disbelief as his demure wife unbuttoned his shorts with deft hands -- every touch sweet torture -- took out his cock, her fingers curling around him, so insanely good -- and dropped to her knees on the cool stone floor. It was a cushioning charm she'd cast, he realized. She gave him a soft, measuring look under her long lashes, parted her lips and curled out the tip of her pink little tongue as she took him in her mouth.

His knees very nearly gave way, and his hands scrambled over the wall to brace himself, as she wrapped him in soft, wet heat. Her fingers still held his cock at the base -- Hermione had a healthy gag reflex and wasn't able to take him very deep -- but her hand and mouth had perfected their cooperation in this respect months ago, and Viktor wasn't complaining. Hell, if he'd been able to form any non-sacrilegious words at all, he'd be thanking every deity there was, for her soft hands and wicked mouth and clever, absorbed attention. As it was, he had enough on his hands not to shout out loud the stream of appreciative obscenities in his mind.

She sucked him so sweetly, one hand stroking his balls, another pumping his shaft, her lips sliding up and down on the head of his dick, moving the foreskin perfectly over the sensitive skin underneath. Her tongue swirled over his glans on each downstroke, teasing out the drops leaking from the slit there, making stars shoot in his vision. Viktor breathed in achingly controlled pants, one hand gathering her hair at the nape in his fist, the other hand braced against the wall as he rocked into her mouth. The heat of his building climax was a thick burn in the muscles of his thighs and arse, a sharper burn in his spine and his balls and dick. He could hear his mother and aunt and nephews laughing outside and couldn't even bring himself to care. His eyelids were heavy with a blur of lust yet he forced himself to keep them open, to gaze down at her, because the sight was too delicious to miss.

Holding his gaze, her mouth still bobbing on him in a perfect rosy 'o', she took her hand away from his balls and hiked up her skirt. She tilted her hips up to give him a better view as she slid two fingers through the slit of her pussy, so wet and glistening that he had no reason to doubt that it felt as good as her immediate small frown of concentration indicated, even though he wasn't so far gone he couldn't also recognize a show when it was being put on for him. Her breathing changed around him, harder through her nose, small humming noises from her mouth vibrating over his cock. He couldn't hold back the small groan that escaped him, gripping her hair harder, his knees sagging with muscle burn as he took his other hand from the wall and put it between his thighs, stroking his balls as she sucked him. Oh, fuck, it was coming now, rising like curling licking fire in his groin, and he was gasping so hard for breath that he had no idea any longer if he was quiet enough but there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop this. 

Then she took her mouth away. He was ready to howl, but her hand immediately picked up the job, stroking him without pause.

"You're not going to come on my tongue this time, Viktor," she whispered on soft, gasping breaths, a warm blush over her face. "You're going to shoot all over your mother's pristine pantry, you're going to paint her tins and her shelves white, because you're such a very wicked boy--"

"Fuck," was all he could get out on a rasping whisper, although even through the white-hot shaking lust he had a lucid instant of complete admiration for her nerve. "You vin," he managed to add, just as he felt every resistance give way and he climaxed in long, helpless spurts, letting her fingers milk it out of him, sprays of semen flying across the room and him writhing and silent, every primitive urge to vocalization forced down to nearly soundless grunts between clenched teeth.

As he sagged against the wall, trying painfully to regain his breath and his wits without panting so loud that he could be heard outside, Hermione got up from the floor, took her wand and cast a soft _Evanesco_ around the room.

Viktor stared at her in his post-orgasmic haze and drew her into his arms. He took her wand from her hand, cast a wordless silencing spell on the room, and holding her gaze, put his hand between her legs and rubbed her wet clit gently and steadily.

It didn't take long, it hardly took any time at all, before her thighs clenched around his hand and her fingers clutched hard on his arms as she came in a smugly dainty fashion, with flushed cheeks, an angelic expression and sweet, quiet little whimpers of gratitude.

"Can ve call it even now?" muttered Viktor gruffly as she sagged into his embrace. "Because I not think I can survive any more rounds of this battle."

She lay her head back and blinked up at him. "Even?" she mused, mischief dancing in her eyes. "You _said_ I'd won, so it would be very generous of me to call it even. But in the interest of marital harmony -- we can certainly _pretend_ I didn't win."

Viktor choked on a laugh of exhaustion and utter satisfaction, as she deftly tucked him in and buttoned up his fly. Yes, he'd already admitted that she'd won as he came all over the room at her command, and frankly he wasn't all that worried about his pride at the moment. He waved the wand and unlocked the door, uncaring that anyone could walk in now as he grabbed his wife tight and kissed her breathless, tasting his own flavour tangy on her tongue, standing amidst his mother's precious bottles and tins.

"You vin, _mila_ ," Viktor muttered, brushing her hair away from her face and laughing. "You haff no mercy, and I love you."

Hermione's triumphant grin softened to an enigmatic little smile, and then she stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek. "Just for that, I'll settle for even after all." Turning to the top shelf where her wand had been, she took down a covered jug and raised an eyebrow in query. "Want to go into the kitchen and have a cold drink?"

***

"Did you have some iced tea, Vitya?" his mother asked, as they strolled back into the garden a couple of minutes later. 

Viktor opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione broke in. "I gave him some," she said, switching back to that sexy Bulgarian of hers and gazing fondly up at him. "It was exactly what he needed, _mamka_."

-end-


End file.
